50MM: 28: Altered Images

I can't believe I have to admit to this. I'm not exactly embarrassed, but claiming to be young really isn't going to excuse all of it. Ah, well, those were altogether more innocent times. For each of the years I was at university, I had my summer van driving to keep me solvent; except (for some reason) for the summer of 1981. I have no idea why I was unemployed that summer, laziness was almost certainly part of the deal, though. I wasn't entirely idle, however - at least, I don't think I was... I do remember clearly redecorating the hallway and stairs in my parents' house. Now, I remember doing the whole thing myself, which is unlikely - it's more likely that I did a lot of the cleaning and painting and my father and I did the actual wallpapering. But no matter - what I remember is those few days of hard work, with my radio permanently tuned to 'Wonderful Radio 1'. And I kept hearing, over and over, a nagging tune called 'Happy Birthday'. I hummed and whistled along, enjoying the jolliness and general amiability of the whole thing, and then I saw them - her - on Top of the Pops...

I finally understood what was meant by 'schoolboy crush'. The object of my crush was no older than I was, already clearly a major pop star (so that's another career choice closed off, then) and, well, just Clare. I'd like to tell you that I got over her very quickly, and chalked up schoolboy crushes to experience, but, well - have you seen Gregory's Girl? And I heard her on the radio only a few weeks ago, and there was still a spark there - unless that was indigestion...

What I think now:

Well, I’m ten years older, so I’m able to view my youthful self with a more sophisticated eye. Who am I kidding? A schoolboy crush – whatever age it happens at – doesn’t just fade away; it sits with you probably for the remainder of your life.

Part of the story of ‘Going Back’ is about the consequences of having to deal with the object of your affections as an adult, and finding out the unvarnished truths which are part of every life, yet are invisible to the infatuated. Part of the impetus for that, I have to admit, is my own unrequited schoolboy crush – more distant than Andrew’s, since it was on the pop star persona of someone I’d never met, but the feelings are surely the same.

And, of course, even then, I was aware of the ridiculousness of it all. I wasn’t putting posters up or joining fan clubs, or whatever else might have struck me as sensible back then – I think it’s just as well Twitter didn’t exist, though…